


those lost to the sea

by lovedsammy



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: coda to the wrath of the lamb, post-3x13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 02:19:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4688789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovedsammy/pseuds/lovedsammy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the possibility of the deaths of Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter, Jack Crawford must go and give closure to those left behind -- particularly Will's family, and confront his own concrete role of the lamb's sacrifice. Post-The Wrath Of The Lamb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	those lost to the sea

**Author's Note:**

> OH GOD THAT FUCKING FINALE. Ahem. I mean I'm crying tears of blood.   
> So I know it's more than likely that Hannibal and Will survived that fall, but I like to be a whore for tragedy and think "what if they didn't" and it makes me feel all melancholic so I decided to write this. It suits the possibility of both endings. Plus, I got the idea from a friend who wanted a Jack or Alana POV about this, so yeah.   
> *The idea to make Jack have more pivotal of a role in what happened comes from a Bryan Fuller interview, so that is canon rather than headcanon.  
> * It's supposed to be implied that WILL at least did not live, but we know if Hannibal lives, he'd find a way to ensure Will did too. But just go into it thinking Will is dead, at least for this fic. It has more impact. ;D

It took them almost no time at all, not even a day, to find the resort, to follow the trail that had been so kindly set for them. Mostly, this was unintentionally caused in part by Dolarhyde, as Will had proven to be an unreliable accomplice for this particular task, in the end. Not that Jack hadn’t seen it coming – Will’s connection to Hannibal Lecter was something he didn’t quite understand, but had ultimately underestimated. Here he’d thought that it was good old fashioned Stockholm syndrome talking when Will had confessed to wanting to slip away with Hannibal. As manipulated and coerced as Will was by his former psychiatrist, whatever it was that was forged between them had been inevitable. Still, he hadn’t thought the younger man would actually give in to the urges he had to run away with Lecter. 

Yet, he’d known that Will would make do on his promise to end the Red Dragon, to end Francis Dolarhyde. So he wasn’t surprised when they located him. His body was lying spread-eagled on the asphalt on the premises, color drained from his face. The blood had long since dried and there was a mixture of other bodily fluids mixed in with all of the gore, and some of his flesh was missing from where the birds had pecked at it. The open gap in his neck was particularly torn anew. He knew without having to rely on Price and Zeller that Lecter had torn into the Dragon’s throat. It wouldn’t be unlike him to leave a sadistic mark behind, proof of the kill. The other wound, however, the slash across the abdomen… that would have naturally been Will. 

Those searching the house found it, finally, the footage. The video camera had been positioned so purposefully to face the courtyard. Jack watched with numb apathy as he witnessed Will and Hannibal tag-team Dolarhyde, delivering the fatal wounds as one. There was no denying that they made quite a formidable team. It truly shook him to the core, to see them in such unified synchronicity, even with their wounds.   
He watched as they spoke to one another, telling each other things he could not hear and was not sure he wanted to, embraced in each other’s arms, perched on the edge of the cliff. He swallowed just before it happened, just before Will let his body go limp, leaning to the side, taking Hannibal with him. The two were suspended high above the sea, never once breaking contact, and then they were gone, lost to the dark depths below. 

He had teams dispatched to search the area for days. 

There were no signs of the bodies.

A large part of him had known that in taking down Dolarhyde and Lecter, that Will might be sacrificed in the process. A larger part of him was indifferent to that fact. Will had been a friend and the best profiler he’d ever had working under him, and losing him hurt in a way that a dull ache does. He would miss him. He would regret that Will had to succumb to suicide in order to take down the man who’d ruined him, who had ruined them all, for so long. Yet, he didn’t regret that it happened. If Dolarhyde and Lecter were out of the picture, Will’s sacrifice was worth it.

But even with the knowledge that they’d gone over, Jack wasn’t entirely convinced that they were truly dead at all. Lecter had an uncanny ability to generate luck; who was it to say that he hadn’t survived the fall, and preserved Will’s life as well? Not having the bodies made him uneasy. 

For now, he’d presume them missing, and to be found – either dead or alive.

For now, he would go and deliver the news to Will’s family, Molly and her son – Walter, wasn’t it? 

Maybe he’d put a word in to Alana too. She may have fled the country for nothing. 

-

Molly’s face is unreadable when he sits her and the boy down and delivers the news – in the gentlest way he can. The boy, at least, shows some sign of outward emotion. He wrings his fingers together, biting hard on his lower lip, eyes on the floor. 

“He’s dead? My dad?”

Jack sighs. “We don’t know for sure,” He supplies. “The footage shows him pulling himself and Lecter over the edge. We don’t know much more beyond that.” 

“I knew it,” Molly whispers. “I knew this would happen.”

Jack’s eyes flicker back to her. “Molly, I…” 

“Stop.” She says, loudly. “Don’t say another fucking word, Jack Crawford.” 

The boy flinches, looking up at his mother, tears in his eyes. “Mom, is Will… is my dad really dead?” 

She doesn’t answer him. She stands, hands glued to her sides, eyes as hard as stone. “I knew as soon as you showed up at our door that Will would be lost to us,” She seethes, emotion coating her voice. “I knew that you would get him close to Lecter again and he’d use the opportunity to steal Will back. I think you knew it, too. I think you knew he might die. I think you were okay with it.” 

Jack can’t deny it. “I knew it might be a possibility.” 

“One you had to go for, right?” She chokes, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Anything to catch Dolarhyde. He’s dead, yeah. Good for you. But Will? He was terrified he wouldn’t be the same when he came back, and now he doesn’t get to come back at all. He died because of you, Jack Crawford.” 

“Hannibal Lecter –“ 

“Shut up about Lecter!” She snaps. “He had a part in it, too, but I can’t quite take it out on him, now can I? He tried to have me killed, he tried to have my son killed. He hurt Will on many numerous occasions – oh, don’t look so surprised, of course Will told me – and he and the man I love died because of your meddling! My son and I will have the knowledge that his father is never coming back because of you!” 

Walter hiccups; the reality seems to have caught up with him. Jack opens his mouth to comfort him, but he bolts out of his chair and goes running out the front door, not even stopping for his coat. He closes his eyes. “I am truly sorry, Molly. You’re right. This is on me.” 

Molly nods harshly, fresh tears coating her face, her mascara smeared. All the energy seems to leave her as she collapses into her own chair, hands covering her face. 

“Leave, Crawford,” She mumbles. “And please don’t EVER show your face here again. If you find his body, send a postcard or a note or have someone else come tell me. But I don’t want you on my doorstep, I don’t want you near me, or my son ever again. Do you understand me?” 

Jack can only nod. 

Slowly, he stands, feeling as though he might collapse, too, and heads out the door without another word. 

He hasn’t even reached the porch when he hears her throwing things, broken sobs filling up the spaces that Will once moved through. His eyes are not dry when he reaches his car. 

Even as convinced he is that Will and Hannibal might still be alive, it was better to let Molly and Walter think he was gone for good. After all, what life would there be for Will Graham here, after all that happened?

After all that might still come.


End file.
